


Back On Your Feet

by occasionalwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:12:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalwriter/pseuds/occasionalwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles loses a part of himself and the pack helps him cope. Also, Scott gives cheesy advice and Derek does research.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back On Your Feet

“Is it bad that I’m scared for him to wake up?” Erica asks, sitting to one side of the hospital bed with her hand clutching Boyd’s.

“No. I don’t know what we’re supposed to say.” Boyd agrees, “This isn’t exactly something we’re supposed to know.”

“Is Scott going to be back soon? I feel like he should handle this.” Erica asks, “I mean, he’s Stiles’ best friend. Or even Derek, he’s better at giving bad news.”

“But we’re the ones who had to make the call.” Boyd’s voice is quieter, “We should be here the whole time, he’ll want to know what happened and we’re the only two who can really tell him.”

“So we wait to tell him so he can hate us?” Erica asks.

“Could you blame him?” Boyd’s voice drops even lower, “His leg is gone because of us.”

“It wasn’t because of us.” Erica sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than anything, she sounds like she isn’t very confident at all, “I mean, not really.”

“I would blame him.” Boyd admits, “If he made the call for me. I mean, I wouldn’t be in his position but it’s still hard to separate whose fault it is. He’ll figure it out but he might need some time. And we have to take whatever he does because he’s the one who was hurt, not us.”

Erica nods, accepting that and then looking back at Stiles lying flat on his back. His face is pale and his eyes are a little sunken but other than the oxygen threading under his nose, he looks intact all the way down barring the IV in each of his arms until you hit his legs. His left leg stops abruptly right above where his knee would be had they not cut it off. The blanket isn’t covering that side of him and they can both see where the stump is wrapped tight with gauze.

It’d been two days since they’d brought him in, Boyd carrying him while Erica pulled tight on the belt that had been wrapped around his leg halfway up his thigh. Stiles had been passed out for almost thirty minutes by that point and when they’d finally gotten him to the ER they’d pulled him away in a matter of seconds. Minutes later, Melissa was coming out and asking them what had happened while simultaneously searching for Scott around the rest of the waiting room.

After explaining to her, they were told that Stiles was in surgery, and probably wouldn’t be out for another hour and a half. When he did finally get out of surgery, Scott, Lydia, and Derek were there too and waiting with Erica and Boyd. Apparently, Isaac was on his way with Cora in tow which would round out the pack.

Once they got there they were shown into his room and Scott was choking on his own breath as he practically fell to Stiles’ left side. “No, no, no, no.” 

“Scott,” Melissa starts, her voice in that soothing nurse tone, “You have to stay calm. Okay?”

“What the hell happened?” Derek asked, standing barely inside the doorway as the others trickled their way in and found a place to stand out of the way.

“Erica and Boyd brought him in…” Melissa starts.

As soon as their voices are mentioned all eyes flip to the two of them and Erica ducks her head a little to try and avoid their stares, Boyd stays quiet until Derek is raising an eyebrow in question which has him clearing his throat, “We found him in a collapsed building outside of town. He was trapped under it because of that leg. We got it out but there was a lot of damage, and blood, so we brought him here. We would’ve waited for an ambulance or help but we heard the hunters closing in so we had to get him out.”

So, there they were, two days later. They were taking turns staying in his room with Erica and Boyd rarely leaving due to the guilt and Stiles’ dad around whenever he could be. None of them knew what to feel; if they should be excited for him to wake up because they’d know he was okay or if they should be terrified of his reaction.

Then he started shuffling and Erica was chancing a glance at Boyd before standing up and moving closer to his side, dragging the chair behind her. Boyd stood as well, standing behind her chair and watching as Stiles seemed to fight to wake up. Finally, after what seemed like minutes but was probably just thirty seconds, his eyes flew open and were dodging around.

One hand goes up and starts to pull the oxygen off his face but Erica is grabbing a hold of it and shaking her head a little bit, “No, just… leave it there. Okay?”

Both of them waited as he scrunched his eyebrows together and started taking inventory of himself. They watched as he looked at his arms and then pressed the button to slant his body up. That was when he seemed to get it. He looked down at his legs and was looking up at the two of them before his hands were flying down to the white wrapped end of his left leg.

“No. No.” Stiles says, voice getting more and more frantic, “This… this is a nightmare. I can’t, I can’t lose a leg. This isn’t right. No!”

“Stiles…” Erica says, her own eyes filling with tears a little bit as she grabbed a hold of one of his hands, “I’m so sorry. It’s okay, you’ll be okay. You’re awake, I’m sorry.”

“Where’s my leg?” He was staring up at the two of them, his free hand clutching the end of his leg and occasionally rubbing at it, “Erica? What happened?”

“That building collapsed, the little house or whatever it was.” Erica explains, trying to keep herself in check and focusing on Stiles’ hand that was still between the two of hers, “It was trapping your leg. We got you out but there was a lot of damage to your it…”

“Do you remember?” Boyd asks.

Stiles closes his eyes and the two of them see him squeezing them tight. His hand flexes in Erica’s and the other starts to peel at the layers around his leg. Boyd goes to grab at that hand and he hopes that it’ll pull Stiles out of whatever trance he’s in but instead he’s squeezing their hands with all his might and his head is angled down, chin nearly on his chest.

That’s when he remembers.

He’d been looking for the hunters, Erica and Boyd weren’t too far behind him, and he was supposed to draw the hunters to him to distract them. He’d gotten himself inside the little house on the outside of the town, it was just a mile or so out, and he’d barely gotten in when he felt it start to rumble a little bit. He turned around to try and get out but then he was falling and the building was crumbling around him.

He got his arms over his head, to make sure that if anything else at least he would be knocked out last. There was a lot of noise and pain and then everything seemed to settle. He was pretty sure he lost a little bit of time because then he was struggling to get out of the pile he was in.

He could tell that one leg was under far too much material for him to even begin to move so he focused on everything else around him. Luckily, his head had been spared and most of the rest of his torso was spared, just his legs seemed to get the brute of the fall. He could get the right one free but without the use of both, he couldn’t do much else.

Then he heard some yelling and as it got closer, and louder, he could hear that it was Erica and Boyd calling his name. He managed to choke out something, hoping that they could hear him. Turns out, they could, and soon there was a mess of movement around him and they were squatting right next to him, looking him over.

“Okay Stiles, how’re you doing?” Erica asked.

“Legs trapped.” He says, “I can’t feel it.”

The two shared a concerned look before they were looking down and trying to see what kind of state it was in. Boyd spoke up next, “There’s a lot of blood.”

“Wrap your belt around his leg.” Erica instructs, “It’ll keep the blood staunched until we can get him some help. We just have to call.”

A couple of seconds passed as Boyd pulled his belt off and did his best to wrap it gently around Stiles’ leg. When he was taking too long, Erica pushed his hands away and was yanking it tighter, looking apologetically up at Stiles when he let out a cry of pain. “I’ll call.”

“Wait,” Boyd stopped her and turned his head as if he was listening, “They’re close. We have to get him out of here or they’ll kill us all.” He looks to Stiles and then winces a little bit, “Sorry Stiles, we have to pull it off you, okay? Try not to pass out on us.”

Erica and Boyd were then standing up and putting their hands on the mess of building that was on top of Stiles, “Ready?”

Stiles gave a little nod and felt a wave of dizziness pass through him when they lifted. One of them said something about him moving back, getting out of the way so they could drop it, and he did just that. He scooted just far enough that they could let it back down and then Boyd was at his side and lifting him up, “Shit Stiles.”

That was when he got a good look at his leg. It was a gross mangled mess of blood and skin and when he finally took the time to see it, the pain set in. His back arched as Boyd pulled him close against his chest and mumbled, “Quiet Stiles, please, we’ll get you to the hospital but you’ve got to be quiet while we run.”

Erica pulled on the belt a little bit more, trying not to touch the mess of blood beneath it, and nodded in agreement with Boyd, “I’m so sorry Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t know what she was apologizing for but then there was another wave of pain as Boyd jostled just a little too much and it made his stomach roll angrily before he was passing out.

He came out of the memory then and looked up at the two of them, not trying to keep the tears in as they both kept their eyes trained on his face sympathetically. “We’re so sorry.”

“No, no.” Stiles waves them off, “It’s not your fault… it’s okay.”

They both seemed to relax then, shoulders losing their tension as they both sat down in chairs at the side of his bed. After an awkward amount of silence, Boyd is telling him, “It’s been two days.”

Stiles nods but his eyes have refocused on his leg, “Where’s my dad? And Scott?”

“I’ll call them.” Erica says, immediately pulling out her phone and standing up. He watches her step out of the room and then it’s just him and Boyd.

“How’re you feeling?” Boyd asks.

“It hurts.” Stiles says, “I… I don’t know how to feel right now.” 

Instead of answering Boyd is placing his hand on what’s left of his leg and pulling all the pain he can. Stiles relaxes back into the pillows a little bit and his eyes close in relaxation. Boyd pulls until the pain is giving him a migraine and that’s when Erica comes back in with a small smile on her face.

“They’re on their way. Scott should be here first.”

Stiles acknowledges her with a short nod and Erica is putting down the railing of the bed, gesturing for Stiles to scooch over. He does just that, Boyd helpfully adjusting his leg so it doesn’t get jostled, and then Erica is lying down next to him on the bed, one hand resting on his chest while the her head goes to lie on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Batman.”

Instead of an answer, Stiles hand goes through her hair as he tries to stop the shaking. Boyd is watching on and trying to make sure that there isn’t any discomfort but none of them speak until almost ten minutes later when Scott walks in with his mother following a step behind.

“Stiles…” Scott breathes, going over and helping Erica off the bed while he sits down in her vacated spot. His hand is immediately going to his leg and pulling as much pain as possible. “I’m sorry.”

Melissa is taking her place at his other side, her hand gently going to remove enough of the gauze that she’ll be able to see how it’s healing underneath. When it seems to be alright she’s attaching it back to his leg and then tapping at the line of the IV, “The surgery went as well as it could’ve. They’re giving you antibiotics to ward off any infection and they’re keeping you hydrated with the other one.” She takes a second to look at him, one hand going to brush the hair off his face, “How’re you feeling sweetheart?”

He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, not sure if there’s anything he’s actually supposed to say or if that’s just a question she asks everyone. She gives him a sympathetic look and then opens her mouth like she’s about to ask another question but then his dad is walking in and pushing everyone else aside so he can lean in to give him a hug.

Stiles clings onto him, hands fisting in the back of his uniform. “It’ll be okay Stiles.”

They let him out a week later, some complications coming up with an infection keeping him there longer than they’d initially thought. He was confined to a wheelchair until he was healed enough to be fit for a prosthetic. Even after that he’d have months of physical therapy just to figure out how to get used to it and crutches would be a staple in his life until he learned how to balance.

Stiles refused to go back to school. He refused to be the kid who everyone stared at because he was crippled now. So, he’d gotten himself camped out on the couch on the main floor of his house and shooed his dad off to work, promising that he was going to be alright.

As soon as his dad was gone, Stiles was left to stare at the TV and flip through a hundred channels before flinging the remote across the room and at the wall. He’d managed to throw it hard enough to leave a dent. Then his hands were in his hair as he yanked at it to try and stop himself from thinking about the fact that he can’t even stand up on his own.

Then the door was opening and he watched the hallway to see Derek walking in with a pizza box in one hand and his laptop in the other. Stiles didn’t say anything, just watched as Derek set the pizza down in front of him on the coffee table. 

“It’s ten in the morning.” Stiles says.

“And I’ve seen you eat pizza for breakfast, don’t give me that look.” Derek snaps, “We’re getting you on your feet… foot… today.”

Stiles glared at him for the slip up and then he was adamantly shaking his head, “Not a chance.”

“Stiles, sitting on your ass isn’t going to help anything.” Derek says, rolling his eyes and reaching to grab his arm, “Now stand up.”

“Derek I can’t fucking stand! I can hardly sit without tipping, what makes you think I’ll be able to balance standing up?”

“Because you haven’t tried.” Derek matches his annoyance level and glares at him, “You need to get up and move.”

Stiles stares resolutely down at the floor, moving just enough that the pressure on his left stump alleviates and he can focus on what is going on in front of him. Derek has moved closer, reaching a hand out to grab Stiles’ arm which makes Stiles full on lash out. His hand punches Derek’s arm out of the way which has Derek growling a little bit.

“Stiles, get up.”

“Derek, shut up.”

Then Derek is sitting down next to him, grabbing a hold of his leg when it flares up with pain, and Stiles sees the black crawl up his veins. Stiles takes a breath of relief before grabbing a hold of Derek’s arm and giving it a squeeze, not pulling him away but not forcing him to keep pulling the pain. “It’s going to get easier, for you to cope with and stuff.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles snaps, “You’ve never had a physical disability in your entire life, you haven’t had anything more than a throat ache. So how do you know that I’ll be okay. I’ll never run through the woods again, I might not even be able to walk through the woods again.”

Derek glares at him a little bit but softens, “I know. Okay? I know that none of us know how you feel and I can’t help that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you lost your leg and that you had to go through all of that but what’s done is done.”

“Sensitive, Derek.” Stiles says, rolling away a little bit and curling up on the couch, “That’s really kind of you, glad to know my feelings have lost validity since it’s been over a week since it happened.”

Derek knew that he hadn’t said it right, knew that it wasn’t the right way to go about talking to him, but he didn’t know how it felt. He didn’t know how to make him feel better or how to get him back on track. So, he pulled the pizza onto his lap and opened up the box. Then he’s handing Stiles a piece.

Stiles looks up at it and blatantly ignores it, then Derek is touching it to his mouth until Stiles finally grins a little bit and grabs it from him. He eats the whole thing in a matter of seconds and Derek raises an eyebrow at him, “Hungry?”

“The hospital food sucked.” Stiles says as an explanation, taking another piece from the box on Derek’s lap, “Sorry. You didn’t mean anything bad. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, you have a right to be mad.” Derek promises, “You deserve to do whatever you want because it’s not fair what happened to you. You can be as pissed as you want for as long as you want but we need you on your feet. Okay?”

“Why? I’m not going to be of any use in anything except research. And I can research while sitting on my ass here at home.”

Derek takes a moment to center himself, eating a couple of bites of pizza to not say anything stupid, “We’ll help you. We can figure out how to get you back to working order. You’ll be able to do everything you did before. You’ll be alright. Just let us help you.”

“It always hurts.” Stiles mutters, “And it’s not just the end of it… do you know what I mean?”

“Phantom Limb Pain.” Derek says, Stiles looks a little incredulous and searches Derek’s face curiously, “I did some research. I wanted to know what was going on and you weren’t doing any, so I did.”

Stiles smiles a little again, “Well, Mr. Know-It-All, do you have a way to fix it?”

Derek’s already pulled all the pain he can but Stiles has started wincing again so Derek figures that’s the phantom pain kicking in. Stiles looks up at him expectantly which has Derek squeezing his leg and saying, “There’s a few things. There’s a mirror trick, and there’s something about stabbing your prosthetic but since you don’t have one of those I figure we’ll have to stick with the mirror trick.”

Stiles grunts and leans over, his hands grasping at the air around where his leg would be. That has Derek jumping up and heading around the house, looking for a mirror he can take off of the wall. He ends up finding one in Stiles’ dad’s room and carrying it quickly down the stairs. 

Stiles is in even more pain when Derek makes it back down. Derek is lifting his good leg and setting it on the coffee table, shoving stuff out of the way before setting the mirror down so it was facing the good leg. It made a reflection that looked like it could’ve been his missing leg and Stiles looked up at him with confusion.

“Look at it.” Derek instructs, “It’s supposed to prove to your mind that there’s no pain there. There’s no pain in your good leg, and therefore no pain in the reflection. I think that’s how it works at least.”

Stiles nods, willing to try anything, and it has him looking down at the mirror between his legs. It takes a little bit and Derek’s hand finds its way back to his bad leg, making sure that there isn’t actual pain needing to be taken care of. After a little bit, Stiles relaxes and leans back into the couch. 

“Thank you.” Stiles says, turning his head to look at Derek, “That actually helped.”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Derek says, annoyed, “I know how to help sometimes.”

“Give me another piece of pizza.”

Over the next few weeks the pack takes turns keeping Stiles company and trying to get him to walk, to stand up, or to do anything. He’d been in relatively high spirits, as high as they could be at least, but he was still hesitant to get up and moving.

“You have to try, Stiles.” Lydia told him, “I need you back at school, you’re the only one who even remotely challenges me.”

Apparently Stiles hadn’t found that good enough motivation so that left Lydia to drop a pile of books and papers at his side and head out with a huff. She’d stopped just before leaving and turned her head just enough that he knew she was going to talk, “You’re going to be okay Stiles. We’ll all be here until you’re alright.”

Erica had come next. She was still feeling guilty, and still feeling like there was more she could’ve done, but she was intent to not wallow in her own self-pity. So she went over to his house after school and told him, “Stiles, you should give it a shot, even if it’s just a few seconds.”

Stiles gave her a little smile but shook his head. He patted the seat on the couch next to him and as she came and sat she said, “You’ll always be my Batman, no matter if you walk or not. But I think you’re going to walk soon so let me know when that day comes and I can come be your Catwoman again.”

Isaac showed up a little bit after that. The next day actually. He didn’t say anything at first, just stole the remote from Stiles to find something ‘better’ to watch. They sat for almost twenty minutes until Isaac asked him, “Do you want to try?”

“Not really.”

Isaac nodded and said, “When I went to therapy after my dad died and everything they kept trying to get me to talk about it. I’m glad they asked every time and I’m glad they waited patiently for me to finally do it, but I know that it’s hard to do it when you don’t want to. So, just, take your time and if you want me around when you finally do then let me know.”

“Thank you.” Stiles says genuinely, “I’m getting there.”

“I know you are.” Isaac says with a smirk, “But for now we can watch TV and wait for Derek to show up with pizza.”

Fourth was Cora. She was blunt, as usual, and she didn’t want to take no for an answer. “Stiles, get your butt off that couch and let’s do some walking. You just need to hop around on your crutches for a little while. It’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal.” Stiles says, pointedly staring anywhere besides where Cora was standing with her arms crossed a few feet away from him, “It… if I can’t do this then I’m not going to be able to do anything after this. Once this happens it kind of sets the precedent for the rest of what I do.”

“Then just do it.” Cora says with a shrug, “I know you’ll be able to, you just have to believe it.”

“You’re a good pep talker.” Stiles says with a little smirk, “But really, Cora, not today, it hurts and I just can’t deal with it.”

She studies him for a little bit and then shrugs, “Alright. Let’s start on some homework then. We need you caught up for when you come back to school.”

Scott was next to last. He walked in with a brown paper bag and handed it to Stiles before he was sitting next to him on the couch and taking a handful of the curly fries for himself. “I assume you’re here to make me try and get up.”

“I assume you’re going to say no.” Scott says, nothing in his voice hinting that he’s disappointed.

Stiles purses his lips, staring at the food in front of him for a little bit before shaking his head and saying, “You’re right. Because I just can’t. I can’t fail at this and I can’t risk falling on my ass as soon as I stand up and I can’t risk feeling the earth rocking pain every time I think about moving a leg I don’t have!”

Scott has a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it quickly and nodding, “It’s okay. You don’t have to. It’s alright. You don’t fail if you fall, Stiles. This is going to be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said but you only fail when you don’t get up.”

Stiles gave him a look before he burst out laughing. Scott rolled his eyes but was laughing right along with him a few seconds later. After they both finally calmed down Stiles was saying, “Scott, I don’t have to stand up if I never fall.”

Then Scott is giving him a look, one that says something along the lines of ‘don’t be intentionally hard headed’ before he tells him that exact thing and tacks on, “Also, if you don’t get off this couch soon, I think it’ll swallow you right up.”

It was the third week of being home that Boyd was the one to get him up. He handed him the crutches, put his hands under his armpits and yanked him up. It got Stiles glaring at him but then the crutches were underneath his arms and Boyd was nodding his head.

“Come on Stiles, just move a little bit.” Boyd encourages.

“I get fit for my prosthetic tomorrow.” Stiles says, “Then I start that physical therapy. I hate physical therapy. They act all cheerful and I know they mean well but I can’t exactly tell them that I was running from hunters and a bunch of werewolves lifted a house off of me. It’s hard.”

Boyd gives him a sympathetic smile and says, “We’ll be your physical therapists. You know everyone wants to help. And you know that Derek’s made us all look up everything we can. Lydia has found about a hundred different exercises to help you. We’re here.”

That day Boyd gets Stiles to help him cook a healthy meal for his father, since it’d been a while that either of them had eaten real food, and Stiles gets used to being up on just one leg. He’s wobbly and has to take breaks every little while to make sure he doesn’t completely tire out, but he’s getting the hang of it.

When Stiles did finally get his leg fit he ended up with a silver metal one. It was high tech and probably cost far more than he should’ve spent but Derek had insisted on paying for it, along with the physical therapy, and his hospital bills. As much as the Sheriff hated the idea of charity, Derek had convinced him that it was part his fault, Stiles was in this mess because of werewolves, and he assured the man that he had far more money than he needed and Stiles was as good of a person as any to spend it on. The Sheriff assured him that no one faulted him, but he did take the money mostly so Stiles could have the best care possible.

So, Derek was the one helping him while the others were at school. He helped Stiles get used to the leg; just sitting on it, then walking, and all the other steps he had to take (both figuratively and literally) until he was mostly functioning again. He drained his pain every time the end of it got too sore to continue and he handed him a big mirror every time Stiles was punching at the prosthetic.

It was four months after the accident. Stiles had gone back to the school, ignored all the looks he’d gotten, and caught up in all his classes. He was walking without much of a limp and if people didn’t know what happened, they’d probably think he just had a weird gait. But, he was pushing himself too hard and he was intent on getting back into pack business. 

That meant that on that night four months later he was walking with Scott through the woods and they were just trying to figure out what the thing was that had been leaving dead rabbits all around the town. Not a huge deal but they didn’t exactly want it to escalate. So, that’s what left them wandering around following a trail of dead rabbits to a spot that looked like it was a wolf den.

He and Scott glanced in it and around it and then found out that whatever had been in it was now above them in the trees. The two of them looked up to see cat sized creatures jumping from tree to tree above them. They were squawking and spitting and ripping apart branches but they looked like they were just enjoying themselves. 

A few of them ran down the trunk of the tree and started biting at the bottom, they’d run around it a few times and then back up, and they were just being childish. Scott chuckled a little and said, “I know what those things are. They’re just kids, kind of. In animal form. They think that what they’re doing is harmless. It’s kind of funny actually.”

That was when Scott flipped around and they saw the tree right next to them start to fall. Both rooted in their spot in surprise, they just watched as it came down. Then they were both turning and pushing their hands out to shove each other away. Neither completely managed it but when they both fell, it was Scott shoving himself out from under the tree and flipping towards Stiles with complete fear in his eyes.

“Stiles! Are you okay?”

Stiles was flat out laughing. Scott thought that he might’ve hit his head. His hands fluttered uselessly around Stiles and then he was going towards the tree, about to lift it up when Stiles hiccupped from laughing so much. “What is it Stiles?”

“It landed on my fake leg.” He chuckled, “Don’t worry! It doesn’t hurt at all!”

Scott rolled his eyes, laughing a little bit too, before lifting the tree up and off of him, “Jesus. I thought you were going crazy.”

“Well, a little bit.” Stiles admits, his laugh finally stopping, “I mean, I’m contemplating getting an all fake body so nothing hurts anymore. I don’t think it’s healthy thoughts exactly but I mean at least I don’t want to cut off my leg that’s not there anymore.”

“I guess that’s alright.” Scott says with a smirk, “Is the leg okay?”

“I think so, it might be a little bit scratched up but it’s made out of solid enough materials that a tree falling on it won’t break it! It’s stronger than my bones!”

“It’s as strong as you are.”

Stiles looked to Scott with a short little glare, “You need to stop reading inspirational pamphlets. It’s getting ridiculous. But, help me put it back on, because I can’t quite walk this one off.”

Scott nods and pulls up Stiles’ pant leg just enough to see where the prosthetic is attached. Then he’s helping Stiles get it back on and glancing up at him to check that it feels alright. Stiles nods and then yanks his pant leg back down, rubbing at his thigh just enough that Scott grabbed a hold of it and pulled the pain himself.

“Thanks bro, now let’s get going. Tell Deaton about these little assholes so he can tell us how to make them leave.” Stiles says. He reaches down to fix the laces on his shoes and then adjusts the shoe on his fake leg so it’s facing the right way.

Scott pulls him to his feet then and gives him a minute to balance before they’re walking back out of the woods. They get about halfway there before Scott is clearing his throat and saying, “Stiles, I’m going to tell you one last cheesy thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You got back up.”


End file.
